The Children of 1964

Generalizations are seldom acceptable as conclusions, but they are often useful as starting points for discussion. Sometimes, however, I find it hard not to accept a conclusion when my observations point to it so strongly.

My previous post reminded me of a discussion I once had with a friend of mine. We had asked ourselves what may seem a rather odd question: Who the hell are the people born in 1964?

I have many friends who were born that year. My older brother is a 1964 baby. I've worked with a few 1964-ers. And yet they remain somewhat of an enigma.

These people seem to have no pop culture patterns about them whatsoever. Some love the Beatles. Some love punk. Some love both the Beatles and punk. Some love neither. They're elusive. Each does his or her own thing. They don't talk much. Though it doesn't appear they're trying to be mysterious; they simply don't seem to give a damn about generational categorizations, even though for decades now demographers have tagged them on to the tail end of the baby boom (which always struck me as odd and inaccurate).

But maybe there are commonalities.

I will say this about the 1964 people I know. They rarely complain. They don't struggle with their identity. At least not publically. They aren't easily impressed. They reject groupthink. They do their own thing whether you like it or not, and they do it with determination and stealth. They do not and will not buckle or bend over for anyone. Ever. And they don't buy your bullshit. They don't buy my bullshit. They won't buy this post! They don't even buy their own bullshit, if they have any! They are some of the toughest and most independent people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Two quotations: "I've never met a man I was afraid of" and "Go down with nothing less than blood pumping from your ears."

These words were spoken by two different men, both born in 1964. Family men.

Hey, I can only tell you've what I've seen and heard.

Though some big things happened in 1964 -- the Beatles were on The Ed Sullivan Show, the movie Goldfinger was released, the Toronto Maple Leafs won the Stanley Cup, Lyndon B. Johnson was re-elected, Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life in prison, the Civil Liberties Act was passed in the U.S., and Muhammed Ali became the heavyweight champion of the world -- we don't hear much about the people who were born that year.

Clive Owen was born in 1964. Need I say more? He didn't want the role of James Bond. How 1964 is that?

See how I invoke the name of a movie star to make my point? Someone born in 1964 wouldn't do that. Wouldn't even consider it. He or she would make their point with steely-eyed clarity, and then move on.

If we are ever attacked, don't send our young adults. Send in the boys and girls of 1964. The enemy won't stand a chance.

Actually, I think the 1964 babies are a little crazy. I mean that in a good way.

So here's to the people of 1964. Wherever you are.

Whoever you are.

P.S. Read this post by Philly Markowitz.